Celebration of Life

I have been holding onto these pictures because I was waiting for something profound to strike me, some sort of thought process or meaningful story to bleed.

Some days words flow from my fingers like water running down stream, gliding easily, effortlessly, forcefully. But other days the words are locked up inside of me somewhere, a place I cannot find, a safe to which I hold no key.

These past few weeks have been...something. Although I cannot place my finger on what that something is. I just cannot figure out where it came from, what triggered it. I sit down and furrow my brows and try so hard to remember. When did it start, exactly? What happened to bring it about? But the days and nights have blurred together now and no matter how hard I try, I can't remember.

But what they have been, these past few weeks...they have been peace.

It was around about this day, when we gathered at that monument, if I had to pinpoint it at all. It was around about this day when we met in Salt Lake City and saw James' name etched on the glass.

The peace has been daily, nightly, everything in between. It has been constant, like a blanket wrapped around me on a cold day.

And I have been waiting, enjoying the warmth while expecting the moment it will be snatched away again. Because I remember this peace. I have had it before, it comes and it goes.

But it hasn't left me yet.

Three weeks now, and I still have the blanket wrapped around me.

I don't know. I do not know, but if I had to guess solely off my gut instincts, solely off this....something that I can not explain other than to say this feeling...if I had to say...it feels like James. It feels like James doesn't want me to be so sad and to feel so guilty. It feels like he showed up and decided to stay for a while.

And it feels like he wants me to know he is here.

Sometimes I think these things, let alone write them, and I feel like a crazy person. But I have nothing other than my very deepest feelings and instincts and the truth is, they have never failed me before.

I'm not saying that 8 months was the magic number for me. 8 months of hell and depression and guilt and crying before it all just....simmered down one casual afternoon. Because the truth is, I will never be okay. The sheer reminder of the magnitude of losing him, and not just losing him, but losing him the way we did, it will never be okay. I regret so many things and I miss him so much.

I will never be the same. And I sure as hell wouldn't want to be.

But here and now, I am holding tight to this peace that has been thrown my way. I will take it for as long as I can get it.